Some are born of flesh and bone, and some are born of Fiction.

What Have We Become?

What have we become? When the sun no longer shines on these parts.
Empty and vacant are the inner thighs, dark from waiting.
Where were you when I needed you, tomorrow?
There used to be somebody beside me.
Now you are the hole, the something missing.
My throat dries and the vacancy hurts my stomach.
You make me sick to think of, so I don’t.
I don’t know what it all is anymore.
You have thrown me,
And now we are not what we are.